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It’s true. I’m way behind on my 30 Rock but during every episode I do watch, I’m constantly saying, out loud, “oh my gosh! I do that too!” or “Oh Liz, I totally get you.” or “I’m feeling your awkward moment pain.”

I hate the word “lover”. I also hate the phrase “making love”. More like “making me vomit.”

Byrne and Drake arrive at the scene of a possible suicide. However, Drake seems to think it was murder. Also, after eight months of working together, Byrne begins to get under Drake’s skin with his childish ways.

“Drake!” I jump at the sound of my name. “Drake, we found another bo—“

Byrne’s voice trails off when he notices I’m on the phone. He stands, intrusively at my door, waiting; arms folded, foot tapping.

“I need to go.” I hang up and glare at him. “What, Byrne? What is so important that you can’t give me two minutes for a personal call on my lunch break?”

Sensing my frustration he cautiously makes his way to my desk where he abruptly sits. “We, my dear, have a possible murder to solve. Now if that is not a pressing enough matter, perhaps a change of career is in order.”

“Get your butt off my desk.” I say as I stand.

“And stop staring at mine!” I bark over my shoulder as I march out of my office.

I can hear him chuckling as we make our way to the car. He stands by the driver side door, hands resting on the hood. I glare at him. “Fine, you can drive” is all he says as he tosses me the keys. His form of both a surrender and an apology.

“The body was discovered about an hour ago by some guy out walking his dog. He says it was suicide. He was shot in the head. The shotgun was found next to his body. They want us to check it out just to be sure.” Byrne fills me in as we drive to the crime scene.

The crime scene is surrounded by overgrown grassy fields with a small clearing close to the road. There are at least three squad cars with lights flashing. One police officer is getting the man’s statement. His dog eagerly trying to get to the body. I give the man a once over and observe him. Just to be sure he’s not the possible murderer.

Another police officer escorts us to the body. He pulls the sheet back revealing a half-blown off head. I crouch to get a closer look. Something about this case doesn’t feel like a suicide. It reeks of a cover up. And rotting flesh. As I examine the body Byrne continues to ramble on about useless stuff. Now that he has a super smart and amazing partner he never does any work. Which I am grateful for. The sooner I prove myself the sooner I can work alone.

“Drake, do you ever smile?” I do my best to ignore him. Sometimes his carefree and fun attitude comes off as more childish and annoying. “Hello? Drake?”

“First of all, my name is Alex, not Drake. Secondly, I am examining what is left of a man’s head who was shot point blank a few days ago. He stinks. It’s disgusting to look at. Why would I be smiling right now?” I return to examining the mush that is left of the man’s head. I will never get used to the smell.

“Good point. However, it’s warm out. The sun is shining. And we, are not dead. That’s reason enough for me, Sunshine. Plus, we’ve been partners for, what, eight months now and I have yet to see you smile. Actually, genuinely smile.”

“So, do you?” He says as he crouches down in front of me.

“What?” I’m examining the victim’s right hand, not really paying attention to what he is saying.

“Smile?”

I jump up, “this wasn’t suicide.”

“Wait, how do you know it wasn’t suicide. This looks like a suicide. Single gun shot wound to the head. the gun was in his hand. Plus, you aren’t the coroner.” He follows me into the tall grassy field.

“Aha! Look! Shoe prints. Boots to be specific. Our victim is wearing sneakers.” He crouches down next to me. “Yes, I see them. But how do we know they aren’t from the guy who discovered the body or from before the victim was left here?”

I stand, “first of all, the guy who discovered the victim was also wearing sneakers. ADIDAS to be exact. Secondly, it rained in the weeks prior to the suicide/murder. Any footprints made prior would have been washed away. The man died about three days ago. These footprints are fresh. Either someone was watching or these belong to our killer.”

“Oh”, that’s all he can muster to say as I start walking back to the body.

I decided to join LinkedIn today, to help my future you know? I have the option of uploading a photo of myself because people like to see who they are reading about. I get it. So I decided to browse my Facebook photos. Upon browsing I realised something, I have no “professional” photos of myself. I am either posing with someone or with a weird face or I’m in my car (not exactly safe, though I am at stoplights when I take them…usually). So I decided to find my top five best pictures that represent me. The real me.

You may vote if you wish. I’m leaning toward #1 personally. Mostly because I look so adorable in my little helmet.

1. This picture shows that I am both physically fit (seasonally at least) and safe (helmet). Both are good qualities for an aspiring teacher. Not only do I practice proper safety, I can also chase after children if they escape. Or at least run them over with my bike.

Safety first!

2. This picture shows that not only do I have impeccable taste in men (IT’S CHANNING TATUM…*cat call*), but I also have celebrity connections (celebrities have money…school districts usually need money…need I say more?). It also shows that I have a super goofy fun side (obviously).

Celebrity connections.

3. This picture shows that I am good with kids. Which is obviously necessary for teachers, though my students will be slightly older. It also, again, shows my fun goofy side. Also, companies use kids in their commercials to sell products…everyone likes adorable kids right? So…Emma, work your magic!

I like kids.

4. This picture shows my amazing fashion sense. It is both professional (heels, vest with a beautiful flower thingy on it, scarf) and it shows my personality (boxers, sweats, warm hat, funky socks). This would make a great interview outfit. I would totally get the job in this little number. Bonus that I look super confident…like I could take over the world or shape “eager young minds”.

Professional yet personal.

5. This picture shows that I am young. Because I am young I can better relate to my students…because I am young, hip, and cool…or because I look like I’m 15. But come on, look at that face…so adorable right?

Today out of sheer boredom I decided to take a wedding quiz. I know right? WHO IS THIS PERSON.

I’m full of surprises and nobody is as surprised as yours truly. Who knows what I might write about next?

YIKES.

I assure you my blog was not hacked nor am I on any sort of illegal substance.

Or am I?

JUST KIDDING.

Don’t call the cops. Please.

Seriously. I was kidding. So don’t call them.

Truth is, sometimes I have these things called “girly moments”. They’re kind of like an out-of-body experience really. I’ll be sitting at my desk writing a paper and decide I need a break so I start Googling. Once I start Googling things will start to peak my interest. Today I was on Pinterest, to be specific, when I saw a link to find our wedding dress personality. Or something like that.

So I clicked on it. Realised it was not what I wanted. Thus resulting in me Googling “What does your wedding dress style say about you?”

I really did type that. Remind me to delete my browsing history later. Lest someone see that and laugh.

So I found a quiz. Clicked on the dress I liked best (though not MY dress) and here are the results.

Oh you noticed the “MY dress” did you? DON’T JUDGE ME. Yes, it so happens that I do have my dress picked out. No I am not engaged. Or seeing anyone. But why should that matter? I’m a girl. I can have girly moments. SO WHAT.

This is my wedding dress. Sort of.

Also, WEDDING CAKES.

Notice how cake is plural. As in, multiple cakes. Seriously though, who can choose just one flavour?

MY WEDDING WILL BE BEST WEDDING.

Okay. The real reason you’re here. My wedding personality.

Your Personal Style:

Eclectic and very unique. You don’t follow fashion. You prefer to create your own trends.

Who knew yoga pants and hoodies were so unique and eclectic? They must have seen my Pinterest closet which is a million times nicer than I mine will ever look.

Your Ideal Wedding:

Just the two of you, saying your vows while skydiving or flying around in a hot air balloon.

As long as my groom doesn’t mind me A.) vomiting, B.) huddled in the corner of the balloon basket while rocking, sucking my thumb, and singing “Soft Kitty” to myself, or C.) Passing out.

Your Philosophy on Marriage:

It’s a risk like everything else, and hopefully a big adventure.

This is very true. Scary true. I am terrified of having a boring, mundane, or marriage of routine. Obviously those moments will occur but if my entire life is like that, kill me now. Good thing I am easy to please and see adventure as anything from going to a movie to going on a road trip (short or long) to “trying something new” (yes, I am talking about the “s” word).

Your Perfect Marriage:

Having someone to share memories with, without feeling tied down or constrained

I am a committment phobe. I want a buddy to hang out with. I don’t want an overly serious relationship. I want a best friend. One I can laugh with, get mad at and know he will like me (and visa versa. Obviously), goof off with, and just enjoy life with. That shouldn’t be too hard right?

Fans of THIS post will be happy to know that I am developing the back stories of my two leads as well as the serial killer/murders. I am also developing future stories (both with the characters and the killer). Not sure when I will have time to actually write more short stories since I will have to come up with these future stories from scratch and not from a dream.

I’m excited though. There are so many directions that these stories can go with the killer and with the two leads.

In this dream I am a detective who is quite young for someone in my field. Based on my partners remark I am very intelligent, clever, and I’m good at figuring out clues. I’m single, I smoke, and I live alone in a small house I’m renovating. Even though I’m new to my field I seem to be pretty unaffected by the horrors of the crime scene. I am able to look beyond the mutilated bodies, distance myself to keep from getting too emotionally involved, and focus solely on solving the crime.

“Hello?” My voice is hoarse from sleep. What time is it? I wonder as I listen to the aggravated and gruff voice of my partner.

“Hey, get up. We found a body. I need you right away. It might be him.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Ten. Hurry.”

I roll over and check the clock. 4:13am. I groan as I rub my eyes in an attempt to wake myself up from another restless sleep. I don’t know how much more of this I can take, I think to myself as I shuffle to the bathroom to get ready. As I splash cold water on my face I see the images of dead girls in my head. The same images that have been haunting my dreams for the last four months. “I will find this guy”, I say to myself out loud as I stare at my tired reflection in the mirror. I let out a long sigh as I shut off the bathroom light and proceed to get dressed.

I make my way into the chilly fall morning, it should be illegal to be up before the sun, I grumble to myself as I start the engine. The radio plays the soft soothing music of Adele as I head to the scene. Her pained voice singing about lost love only adds to the chilling feeling I get as I arrive at the crime scene. Blue and red lights flash causing me to squint in pain. Giant spotlights flood out what is left of the early morning stars. I park and step out of my vehicle. The air seems colder now. Eerie. Typical of a murder scene. There’s no theme music or funny remarks about bugs at this crime scene. Just the solemn looks of the cops and the relieved but annoyed look of my partner.

“Finally. I was about to call you again. Time of death is believed to be about three hours ago. Her body was dumped here but she wasn’t killed here. We have our people searching the perimeter for tire marks or footprints.” My partner briefs me as he leads me to the body. “Right here. She looks young. College student maybe?”

I nod as I kneel next to the body. She is young. I estimate her to be about twenty-one. Not much younger than myself, I think. Poor girl. I gently move her head to the side. All I see is red. “It looks like blunt force.” I notice her hands, “her fingertips were cut off.” I shout back to my impatient partner. I gently place her hand back in the dirt. I stare at her face. Three hours ago she was alive. Now she’s dead. I will never get used to that. Alive one minute, gone the next. “She was pretty.” I say as I stand up.

“Yea, well, now she’s pretty dead.” I flinch at the comment. My partner has seen a lot more pretty dead girls than I have. He’s been with the bureau for at least twenty years and this job gets to you after awhile. So I let it slide. I stand and stare at her body, my mind whirring. She looks just like the others. But something seems, off.

“Think it was him?” his sudden shouting makes me jump, snapping me away from my thoughts. I shrug. “Can’t tell yet. Same cause of death, same type of girl. Petite, brunette, young. Pretty. Other than that…” My voice trails off as something catches my eye. How did I miss that the first time? I kneel back down and move the waistband of her running shorts.

The mark. I jump up. Frustrated.

“I want this whole area searched. Anything suspicious or out of place I want tagged, numbered, photographed. Everything. Leave nothing to chance. I need to catch this guy.” I shout, aggravated, as I storm off to my car.

My partner walks over to me. “You can’t get so involved. In this job, you need to be calloused. Trust me. You can’t be so sensitive.” I shoot him a look and let out a shaky breath. “I am not getting involved and I am not sensitive. I’m pissed that this guy keeps winning. I’m pissed that I can’t figure him out. Just when I think I have him, BOOM, he switches gears and I have nothing but that damn mark. That one little clue that links all these girls together. No other clue but that–that symbol. I don’t know what it means and I don’t like being bested.” I throw my notebook on the passenger seat.

My partner lets out a long sigh. He understands. This is draining on him as well. “Yea well, you’re a lot smarter and a lot more clever than him. Why do you think the bureau hired you and why I chose you as my partner?” He smiles. Sort of. I shake my head and pull out a cigarette. His mood swings are worse than a girl on her period.

“Those things will kill you, you know?” I shoot him a dirty look and light it. I inhale and instantly feel calm. “So, what’s our next move? Do we have any leads this time?” I say as I let out a long exhale and stare up at the now golden sky.

“Not yet. We have to wait for the crime lab to process the findings. Come on, let’s get some breakfast. And you some coffee. The victim looks more alive than you do right now.”

I laugh and stomp out my cigarette. “Fine but you’re buying. I had to use up most of my savings replacing all the windows and floors in my house last week.” He grumbles, disapprovingly, and shakes his head,”you’re crazy. Why can’t you be like a normal girl and just rent an apartment?”

No he’s not gay. No we aren’t engaged. Well, not in real life anyway. In my mind…well, that’s a different story.

You, my friends, have been curious as to what Mr. Sexy Back’s back looks like. Until recently I had been concerned about how confessing to having, in my possession, one two pictures of Mr. Sexy Back’s back and how that would make me appear to those who don’t know me very well.

Would people call me a creep? A weirdo? Psychotic? Would they not think he was as sexy as I claimed thus ruining the allusion? Would they call the closest Mental Health Hospital and have me committed? Would they call channel 10 and have them do a story on me?

So many concerned thoughts spinning around in my head (I’m a realist and a “worst case scenario” thinker).

Finally one day I decided to say, “screw you all and your unfair judgements” (that day is today, by the way).

I will embrace my inner stalker and share with my faithful followers and fans of all things Mr. Sexy Back, the sexiness of The Back.

But first, a little back story (get it?) on Mr. Sexy Back.

I first met him (and by “met” I mean, “saw him”) in January of 2012. It was 9:30am on a Tuesday and I was half asleep as I sat anxiously awaiting for my first class at my new college for my new career to start. Political Science was the class. If you care. I was sitting at the back table (I always sit in the back of classrooms, I’m weird about people sitting behind me) when in strolls him. He too, looked very unexcited for this class. He paused briefly as he gazed the room for a place to sit. And, of all the empty seats in the classroom (I was the first one there…total nerd) guess where he sat? That’s right ladies (and gents), IN FRONT OF ME.

At the time I didn’t think anything of it. I mean it was winter so he had on a coat or a hoodie. But a few days later the room was unnaturally hot and stuffy. And then, he did it.

He took off his hoodie.

I’m pretty sure it was in slow motion. It was like “Magic Mike“. But for real. Because he was like right there.

He was wearing his signature thin white t-shirt and every time he moved, his muscled moved too. His back…oh his back…it was like if the Statue of David and Ryan Lochte could procreate, he would be there love-child.

I tried so hard to find a picture of his back. But I figured you wouldn’t complain about his front.

I imagine his butt looks like this as well.

Seriously.

He has the broad swimmers shoulders and the small waist. Yea, you know what I’m talking about.

So that’s is the story about how I met saw Mr. Sexy Back for the first time.

Have I made you wait long enough yet? Who am I kidding, you probably scrolled through the text and gawked at his pictures for a good twenty-minutes and now you’re finally reading this. Hey, I get it. I’m a realist. No judgement here.

So, without further adieu, here is The Back.

Seat with a view.

We were supposed to be watching a movie. Instead I was watching this.

So, there you have it friends. The big reveal. I hope you find him just as sexy as I do. Trust me, these crappy cell phone pictures don’t do him justice.

Hope you enjoyed it!

– gypsyjess.

P.S. Mr. Sexy Back now has his very own “category” so look for more Mr. Sexy Back stories (or pictures…hehe…) in the future!

I’ve been so busy lately I haven’t had time to really write an actual post. I’ve resorted to finding a cute or awkward picture of myself from way back when and posting it hoping it will count as a post.

Does it?

I promise I will write an actual post soon though. Update you on my super exciting life.

That was a joke. Laugh.

So without further adieu, here is the photo for ThrowbackThursday.

If he were to do that now he would crush me.

For the entire duration of my mum’s final pregnancy I begged for a sister. I already had a brother and was desperate for another girl in the family. So, when my grandmum received the call that evening from my dad I was ready for my wish to come true.

“Jessica dahling.” She said in her thick Australian accent, “You have a baby brother!”

A shocked look appeared on my face. Brother? Did she just say brother.

Needless to say I was upset. I didn’t like him. I thought he looked like a pig in the hospital and when he came home, I tried to cover him with a blanket. Apparently I thought he would disappear. Dumb baby had to go and cry though and alert mum I was bullying him.

Whatever.

That was nearly 23 years ago. A lot has changed since then. I have finally accepted the fact that I will only have sisters through marriage, something I actually like (being the only girl has its advantages). We are very close now. I can honestly say that my little (he’s 6’4″, not exactly “little) younger brother (5 years, 9 months younger to be exact) is one of my best friends.

So I guess wishes do come true, just not always in the form we want them to.

Do you have any funny sibling stories you’d like to share? I’d love to hear them!